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[Oct. 26th, 2005|10:59 pm] |
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Yeah, now is one of those times that I feel like a complete idiot. |
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| (no subject) |
[Sep. 24th, 2005|12:05 am] |
Okay, so gay neighbor story.
Tonight I went over to my neighbors because he stopped by and I was getting out of the shower. I went over there and talked about how I was going to go hang out with some friends. Somehow, this quick stop and short visit turned into a 2 hour hair salon experience. Yeah, he puts my minimal hair experience to shame. I now have a go to guy for all things that are hair...and I am crazy excited at the thought.
Regardless, I still miss my puppy. |
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[Aug. 24th, 2005|01:54 pm] |
If you don't absolutely love Dave Barry: You're Crazy:
The hidden life of dogs
BY DAVE BARRY
(This classic Dave Barry column was originally published on Dec. 12, 1993.)
I want to talk about the hidden lives of my dogs.
Until recently, I wasn't aware that my dogs had hidden lives. There were many times, such as when they'd take turns repeatedly eating a deceased lizard and throwing it back up, when I wasn't even sure they had brains. Then I got ''The Hidden Life of Dogs,'' the best-selling book by Elizabeth Marshall Thomas, who has some astounding insights into dog behavior. For example, in an effort to find out what dogs do when they're on their own, she spent months following a husky named Misha as he roamed all over Cambridge, Mass. What Thomas discovered was that Misha, who at first appeared to be simply trotting around aimlessly, was in fact earning a degree from Harvard Business School.
No, I am joshing. Harvard does not accept huskies unless their parents are extremely wealthy. What Thomas discovered, after much observation, was that Misha spent his time -- and here I will attempt to summarize two full chapters of ''The Hidden Life of Dogs'' -- sniffing other dogs and peeing a lot.
This might not strike you dog-owners as all that deep of an insight. But trust me, it seems like one when you're reading the book. Because where you might see just a plain old dog engaging in non-rocket-scientist behavior, Thomas sees a highly sophisticated organism responding to elaborate socio-biological stimuli and performing complex problem-solving tasks. It's not her fault that the solution to the problem is usually to pee on it.
Anyway, reading this book got me to thinking about my own dogs. Did they have a hidden life? If so, could I discover it, and -- more important -- write a best-selling book?
To find out, I removed my dogs from the confined, controlled environment of our house and put them outside, where they were free to reveal their hidden lives. I observed them closely for the better part of a day, and thus I am able to reveal here, for the first time anywhere, that what dogs do, when they are able to make their own decisions in accordance with their unfettered natural instincts, is: Try to get back inside the house. They spent most of the day pressing sad moony faces up against the glass patio door, taking only occasional breaks to see if it was a good idea to eat worms (Answer: No).
Of course, the dogs have important and complex socio-biological reasons for wanting to get back into the house. For one thing, the house contains the most wondrous thing in the world: the kitchen counter. One time a piece of turkey fell off of it. The dogs still regularly visit the spot where it landed, in case it shows up again. There's an invisible Dog Historic Marker there.
Another reason is that the house provides a better echo for barking. Dogs employ barking as a vital means of communicating important messages, such as: ''bark.'' Barking also serves a vital biological purpose: If a dog does not release a certain number of barks per day, they will back up, and the dog will explode. (Whenever you hear an unexplained loud noise in the distance, it's probably a dog exploding.)
Our large main dog, Earnest, spends her day sleeping directly under my desk, and three or four times a day she'll have a pressure buildup, causing her to wake up, lift her head, release a bark and immediately go back to sleep. Her bark, traveling at the speed of bark, quickly reaches our small emergency backup dog, Zippy, who is sleeping elsewhere in the house. He wakes up and rushes up to the outside of my office door and starts barking at it, because there is clearly something wrong inside. (Why else would Earnest have barked?) This in turn awakens Earnest, who leaps up, bonks her head against the bottom of my desk, then rushes over and starts barking at her side of the door. Each dog is firmly convinced that there is Big Trouble on the other side, possibly involving their arch-enemy, the U.S. Postal Service truck. It comes around every day, and usually Earnest and Zippy are able to drive it off by barking at it and getting spit all over the windows by our front door, but now apparently the truck somehow has GOTTEN INTO THE HOUSE and is ON THE OTHER SIDE OF THIS DOOR BARK BARK BARK BARKBARKBARKBARK!!!
This is what my dogs are thinking (if ''thinking'' is the word I want here) as I get up, walk past Earnest, who is now insane with rage, and open the door. Instantly Earnest charges BARKBARKBARK into the hall, narrowly missing Zippy, who is charging BARKBARKBARK into my office. Each one goes about five feet, then -- WAIT a minute!! -- skids to a stop, whirls around, and charges back the other way, still barking. Sometimes they'll pass each other three or four times before they run out of momentum and lie down again, confident that, thanks to their alertness, the house is once again safe. This is the hidden dog world that goes on every day in our house. I admit that, socio-biologically, it is not as interesting as the things that Elizabeth Marshall Thomas' dogs do. But Earnest and Zippy are the only dogs I have. Make me an offer. |
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| (no subject) |
[Aug. 16th, 2005|09:22 am] |
I just called one of my very good friends to wish her a happy birthday. You see, she lives in Russia and it's about 6pm there. Normally the Europeans, including the Russians, eat late so I wanted to make sure that she would not be busy.
However, I failed...miserably. My friend graciously thanked me and informed me that she was checking into her hotel...in MONTE CARLO. Now, my friends, let's take a moment to analyze this situation...my friend, God bless her, not only gets to travel to excited places as such, but she does it so often that she has acquired a cell phone that works all around the world.
Don't get me wrong, I live a very good life and I know it, but sometimes I just can't help but be a little jealous of the girl who hasn't yet attended college and can jet set around the world as much as my dear friend, the girl who can walk into the Gucci store and be greeted by name, and the girl who has no end insight to this luxurious lifestyle. Of course, I know better than most, okay maybe that's slightly presumptuous, I know as well as most, the dilemmas that face my friend, and they are substantial. Yet, I must admit, every once in a while, it's easy to forget them, and hard not to wish that I could spend some time in her shoes...even if it was only a day. |
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| (no subject) |
[Jun. 23rd, 2005|04:02 pm] |
Courtesy of David Pollack and Ruth Van Reken:
You Know You’re a Third Culture Kid When…
*You can’t answer the question “Where are you from?”
You can speak two (or more) languages but you can’t spell in any of them.
You flew before you could walk.
*You have a passport but no drivers license.
You run into someone you know in every airport.
You have a time zone map next to your telephone.
*Your life story uses the phrase “Then we went to…” five times (or six, or seven times…).
*You speak with authority on the quality of airline travel.
*National Geographic (or the Travel Channel) make you homesick.
*You read the international section before the comics.
*You live at school, work in the tropics, and go home for vacation.
*You don’t know where home is.
*You sort your friends by continent.
Someone brings up the name of a team and you get the sport wrong.
*You know there is no such thing as an international language.
Your second major is a language you already speak.
*You realize it really is a small world, after all.
*You watch a movie set in a foreign country, and you know what the nationals are really saying into the camera.
*“Away” games require a passport and air travel.
*Rain on a tile patio – or a corrugated metal roof – is one of the most wonderful sounds in the world.
*You haggle with the checkout clerk for a lower price.
*Your wardrobe can only handle two seasons: wet and dry.
You go to Taco Bell and have to put five packets of hot sauce on your taco.
You have a name in at least two different languages, and it’s not the same.
*You think VISA is a document stamped into your passport, not a plastic card you carry in your wallet.
You automatically take off your shoes as soon as you get home.
*Your dorm room/apartment/living room looks a little like a museum with all the “exotic” things you have around.
*You won’t eat Uncle Ben’s rice because it doesn’t stick together.
Half of your phone calls are unintelligible to those around you.
You know the geography of the rest of the world, but you don’t know the geography of your own country.
*You have best friends in 5 different countries.
You are spoiled. You know it…you are VERY spoiled.
My own edition: You find this list amusing.
Things that have ever or still do apply to me are starred*. |
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| Boredom Overseas |
[May. 23rd, 2005|04:46 am] |
So it's 4 45 in the morning in Moscow. Suprise Suprise, I can't sleep. Nothing seems to be working. Sleeping Pills don't help. Staying up until I'm so tired that I literally can't keep my eyes open doesn't help. Watching TV... nothing.
So I'm downloading AIM. My parents are going to hate me when they see the internet bill but what else am I supposed to do at 445 am? I guess the worst part is that I'll fall asleep and wake up at 3 or 4 and start thinking about him and everything that's happened. Then I think about everything that could happen, knowing very well that most of it probably won't...well at least not the things that I want to happen. I miss that puppy so much.
Anyway, now I'm on AIM but no one else is on. I suppose it doesn't really matter that it's a Sunday night now that school is out. Of course it's only 8pm. Like I said, I really shouldn't be on anyway...Killer Internet bill. I suppose I'll get a head start on my GOV course.
TaTa |
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| (no subject) |
[May. 10th, 2005|01:22 pm] |
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Has this been the semester from hell for anyone else? |
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| (no subject) |
[Mar. 10th, 2005|11:16 am] |
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Okay so since spring break is coming up, I thought I would make an apointment with my electrolygist. During the school week its hard to find the 3ish hours it takes to got through the whole process, driving time and what not to work it all out. So I call her and she answers the phone..."Hi Kaci". I was very shocked. I guess she has caller id, but I mean it caught me off guard nonetheless. It's like calling your doctor and having them greet you by name before you tell them it's you! |
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